


Dual Lead

by softieghost



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Yuri Plisetsky, Consensual Infidelity, Felching, I tried to actively not write otayuri and theres still a ghost of otayuri in here im so sorry, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Top Victor Nikiforov, alternatively titled: the seven year itch, maybe some yuu/yu next time hmm lets see, yuri and viktor's competitive relationship coming to a head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softieghost/pseuds/softieghost
Summary: “It's almost your birthday. What do you want?”Viktor looked around the room, as if he needed inspiration. His eyes slid past crystal glasses and expensive suits, past sponsors, past advertisers, past up and coming skaters. He turned his head back and forth, pausing for the briefest of moments on one thing alone.Long blonde hair whipped out of the room, chasing an undercut.





	Dual Lead

The hum of the banquet was low and constant - mixed voices, clinking glasses, and the occasional laughter that burst too loud before being stifled. The room was well lit, enough for Yuuri to be able to look around and see everyone's strained smiles and the beginnings of laugh lines on Viktor's face. 

“Funny to think how different our banquet was seven years ago.” Yuuri murmured as he placed his hand on Viktor's chest. 

“Mmm.” Viktor hummed in response. He was a little drunk, not too much, but enough to have his lids be heavy and his thoughts slow. 

“It's almost your birthday.” Yuuri tried again. “What do you want?” 

Viktor looked around the room, as if he needed inspiration. His eyes slid past crystal glasses and expensive suits, past sponsors, past advertisers, past up and coming skaters. He turned his head back and forth, pausing for the briefest of moments on one thing alone. 

Long blonde hair whipped out of the room, chasing an undercut.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri Plisetsky is having the worst conversation of his short life. It's worse than when Dedushka tried to give him The Talk. 

“Yuratchka, soon you're going to be interested in -”

“Ded, stop.” 

It's worse than when, after getting caught kissing a boy from his tutoring program, he got another kind of talk. 

“Yuratchka, condoms are still important -”

“Ded, STOP!” 

It might be worse than when he fucked JJ Leroy just to say that he'd been the boy’s first boy only to find out Otabek had been there much earlier. 

Yuuri's looking pained and Yuri is realizing he hasn't answered his question. Then again, it's not everyday you get propositioned to fuck a married man by his husband. 

“A birthday present? You're a real piece of work, Katsuki.” 

Yuuri’s frown deepens. “You don't have to.” 

“But now I know he wants to.” 

Yuuri shifts like he hadn't considered the point. Like even his famous anxiety hadn't let him cycle through the idea that telling Yuri might be a bad idea. 

Yuri sets his water bottle down and skates off, refusing to give Yuuri an answer for another few hours. Let him stew in it. 

 

* * *

 

The worst part is that Viktor actually looks nice. He shot over 30 a few years ago but has stayed in shape and his hair isn't that thin even though he worries about it. He still looks good in a suit, especially the light grey one he's wearing right now. If Yuri wanted to lie to himself he'd say Katsuki didn't look good too, but he did. They were so obviously a matched set that he was nervous about intruding later in the evening. 

Viktor's birthday party swirled around him. He'd rented out a hotel and was telling everyone he was turning 30 like he did every year. With champagne in his hand he was leaning into Chris and whispering in his ear. They were so close and their conversation so obviously intimate that Yuri was almost ready to think he was going to go home without getting to take his clothes off. 

A drop of condensation from his glass dripped onto his hand and Viktor's eyes slid over to his. 

Nevermind. 

Not to be the one caught staring he turned away, pulling his phone out of his pocket. No new notifications. He wanted to text Otabek but he very much did not want to think about Otabek. He could feel them spiraling towards something. He felt the tides of their friendship changing. He knew bringing this up more than once would be too much but still he wanted his opinion. 

Yuri drained his champagne glass in one go. 

Across the room Phichit was dancing with Yuuri and Mila was dancing with Sara. The party was small and contained within a single (lavish) room but everyone had someone else to talk to. Otabek was stuck in Almaty, though, looking after his sister, who had been sick lately. So Yuri wandered around, phone in hand, ignoring everyone else. 

_ Everyone here is so fucking gay.  _ He finally sends. 

_ Yura, that's not fair. Georgi’s there. _

Yuri rolls his eyes and pockets his phone. Georgi was in fact there, with some nice lady on his arm that Yuri hadn't bothered to learn the name of. 

On the other side of the room Viktor is staring at him. Yuri swallows. The distance feels like foreplay - every few minutes he catches Viktor's ice blue gaze and a small half smile that Yuri knows has been used on countless other boys like him and yet he feels like it's private, special. He knows the only things Viktor keeps private are shared with Yuuri and that he will never have those things. He doesn't necessarily want those things - the mess that lives inside Viktor - but he still feels like he's getting it. Like Viktor is carefully lowering his mask just to reveal another, different one underneath. 

The party continues like that for the rest of the night and into the morning. Loud laughter and music crash around Yuri, who constantly feels rooted to the floor. He could see his friends dance around him but he could only ever look over at Viktor. It was probably obvious what was going to happen between them but he didn't much care - people talked about him all the time. They talked about who he dated, who he fucked, what he was thinking more than he talked about it. Plus, what else was more interesting than the vision of a living legend down on his knees? 

It was the only reason he'd agreed to it, anyway. Getting Viktor down beneath him. He didn't compete anymore and Yuri was steadily approaching his medal count - there was no reason to look up to him anymore. And yet he still wanted, very badly, to look down on him. 

Georgi left first, date trailing behind him. Mila and Sara snuck off at some point, likely up to their shared room. Still the party dragged on and on as other people left, slowly trickling out the door. Yuri could feel the tension in the room rise as people snuck out. Old friends left, new friends lingered, and various wait staffers looked exhausted as they refilled drinks in the thinning party room. 

Yuuri and Phichit were slow dancing as Viktor and Chris continued to talk at the bar, both of their half-empty glasses dripping all over the polished wood. 

It was just the five of them left. Yuri was tired, almost ready to bail. 

“Yuri, come dance with me.” Chris called, stumbling away from Viktor for what felt like the first time that evening. 

Chris cut towards him swiftly and efficiently. Without actually needing to answer the request Chris’s arms were around him and they were spinning on the dance floor. 

Chris had retired the season of the Barcelona GPF, right after Worlds. He got his wish of standing on the podium next to Viktor one last time, at Europeans, before his knee finally blew out. He still looked happy, though, which worried Yuri. He wasn't sure he would be happy after his retirement. 

Still, they danced to the boring music Viktor loved. Chris was far drunker than he but still managed to give an impressive lead. 

“You've become quite cute, Yuri Plisetsky.” He whispered in Yuri's ear as they danced. 

“Don’t be fucking weird.” Yuri pushed back. 

“Ah, I forgot you were promised to another man tonight.” 

Yuri pulled himself out of Chris’s grasp only to be picked up by Phichit, who appeared behind him. 

“Yuri, take a picture with me.” Chulanont said, smiling. His eyeliner was smudged in a not-on-purpose way but he still looked good. He'd always been cute, in Yuri's opinion and up close Yuri could see how perfect his skin was even under foundation. He smelled good, too and Yuri was suddenly struck by the idea of just staying there, tucked under Phichit’s deceptively strong arms. 

The selfie was tilted, and a little blurry, but Phichit put it up anyway. 

“Sometimes the imperfect shot is the perfect one.” Sage advice from the master of Instagram, apparently. 

Phichit spun away from him, a celestial body in orbit. Yuri was passed into Yuuri's arms in exchange. 

“How are you?” Yuuri asked, placing a hand on the small of his back. Yuuri was in dark grey with light grey accents and a red tie. Yuri wondered if it was supposed to be an obvious callback to the Eros Era and if that made Viktor, shimmering in silver and grey Agape and what that left him with. He was wearing deep purple, picked out by Viktor himself. 

“I feel like I'm being passed around.” 

“There are a lot of people in the world who want your attention, I suppose.” Yuuri's hair was falling into his face as they danced together. He was sexy that way, even at 31. 

“I never expected it from other skaters.” Yuri took the lead here, forcing Katsuki to follow. 

“Funny, Viktor would say the same thing.” 

“And yet.” Yuri said as he looked across the room to where Viktor was perched, alone, at the bar watching his husband and his successor slip from tango to salsa to waltz without any misstep. 

“And yet.” Yuuri sighed. “You two really are similar. Even though I know you hate it.” 

“I don't hate the similarities, just people pointing it out all the fucking time.” 

Yuuri changed the lead and dipped Yuri low, almost to the ground. His face was pink. 

They moved across the floor, taking the lead from one another each time, like they were fighting for control of the dance. They changed styles on a whim, and spun away and towards one another easily. They were pink from alcohol and not exertion, panting in each other's spaces. Yuri wanted to kiss him. Ironic, he supposed. 

“May I cut in?” 

His voice was deep and cool. Even though he had been drinking all night and Yuri thought he had seen the ghost of cigarette outside he sounded like liquid metal. 

He felt like metal at first too - rigid and defined. The waltz was perfect down to every finger’s placement. It was devoid of spontaneity or passion. Just two men, with an indescribable relationship, in each other's arms for the first time. 

This time the dance did not change on a whim - it stayed the same as they rotated around the room. Where Yuri and Yuuri had created a push and pull, a circle to follow, Yuri and Viktor were both leading. If Viktor led forward, Yuri led backwards. It was awkward and fumbling, almost painful, but they didn't miss a beat of the soft music playing from invisible speakers in the rented ballroom, dripping in gold and pearl. 

Yuri dared not speak to Viktor. He could barely stand to breathe. 

At first he wasn't sure if Viktor was trying to kiss him or not. Their faces were close and they shared breath but Viktor simply held their poses - a cruel choreography Yuri wasn't allowed to break. 

But, then, Viktor touched him so lightly he would have thought he imagined it if he had not seen it. Their kiss was nearly chaste, Viktor's tongue barely grazing Yuri's bottom lip. They were the same height so it was easy to deepen it but Yuri tried to keep it slow and simmering. 

They were alone in the room, Chris, Phichit, and Yuuri having slipped out at some point without Yuri taking notice. Alone they were dwarfed by the hall and Yuri felt the buzzing pressure of the gold room around him. His head was TV static. 

Viktor's hand slipped down low, to the small of his back and suddenly Yuri was aware of how close they were, Viktor holding him tight and pressing his half-hard cock into Yuri's. He didn't try to pull back, to save himself any embarrassment of being turned on so easily by some kisses because this whole night had been so perfectly and carefully planned. His erection had been planned just like his suit, a shade that made his skin ghostly pale. 

The fire inside of him began to grow, making his stomach clench with alcohol and anticipation. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. He pushed forward, crushing their bodies together, and slipped his tongue fully into Viktor's mouth which tasted like expensive bourbon and minty toothpaste. 

He felt hot all over as Viktor began to grope him, kneading his ass through his tailored pants and pulling their hips together so tight it almost hurt. Viktor was so hard already that Yuri wondered how long this whole thing would take. Viktor continued to paw at Yuri and they stopped dancing, simply kissing in the center of the dance floor. Yuri could feel the very beginnings of Viktor’s stubble coming in; he always complained about having to shave every single day. He could feel his hot breath as they parted for a second, he could feel the way his hands were bigger even though they were the same height. Viktor felt strong and steady, a constant force against him. 

Viktor’s hands moved from his ass to his face, cupping his jaw hard and crushing them together until their teeth clacked. Viktor was trying to devour him whole.

Yuri shoved his knee up against Viktor’s crotch, feeling how hard he was. He pressed forward a little too forcefully, giving as good as he got. 

“Remember what I said?” Yuri asked, breathless, pulling away from Viktor for a moment. 

Viktor kissed him again, sweetly. He kissed his neck, too, biting hard enough to leave a mark. Yuri shuddered as he felt Viktor bruise him and then Viktor was gone, pulled back, leading Yuri over to the bar. He stumbled, forced to follow. At the bar Viktor hoisted him up onto the wood, holding him hard enough around the middle to make him forget to breath for a moment. He’d never been manhandled like that by anyone, let alone a lover.

Was Viktor a lover?

The wood bar was hard and uncomfortable under him but he could barely think of that as Viktor started to work his fly open with skilled hands. Yuri knew Viktor had taken off the pants of many a man before him but even so his hands were surprisingly graceful around the button and zipper of his fly, opening him up easily and deftly. Viktor lifted him again, pressing his shoulder into Yuri’s armpit and tugged his pants down. Yuri didn’t have to do anything here - he was in Viktor’s control. He let this part happen do him, around him, because he knew he had a choice. 

He hadn’t chosen to feel alone earlier, that had just happened regardless. He hadn’t chosen to be propositioned, that had just happened. He had reacted, of course, but he hadn’t chosen. He hadn’t even chosen his own suit, that too had been Viktor. But this he could choose - let Viktor take the lead for a moment, for he knew what would be happening after. 

His pants and underwear fell onto the floor unceremoniously. The soft  _ fwump _ of fabric seemed to highlight the little breaths huffing out of Viktor’s mouth as he looked at Yuri, half naked and hard on the bar.

Viktor sat on a bar stool for this part. It was awkward but it was better than hearing Viktor complain about his knees.

_ Old man. _ Yuri thought as Viktor licked his lips.

Just like their first kiss Viktor was tentative here at first. He pressed his hands into the tiny crease that formed between Yuri’s torso and thighs as he sat upright. His hands were gentle and firm and surprisingly cold but fire seemed to burn wherever he touched. Yuri was hot all over, buzzing, almost shaking as he felt Viktor ghost over him. Viktor was trying to tease him but Yuri knew how to wait. Nothing else would happen without this stipulation, anyway, and Yuri knew how badly Viktor wanted everything else from him. 

The first touch was gentle. But it still sent electricity through Yuri’s body. Years of approximated touches and a carefully distant relationship was poured into the tiniest graze of a lip against skin. Viktor’s hands hadn’t left his hips, he simply moved his head to chase Yuri’s cock where it lay, hard, against him. His mouth was hot and wet and tight and the vision of Viktor Nikiforov on his metaphorical hands and knees for him made Yuri leak inside Viktor’s mouth. He still refused to be ashamed of how turned on he was.

Viktor’s silver hair shook gently as he moved, tightening his lips and sucking hard. It was noisy, and sloppy, and Yuri could hear the echos in the room but he loved it regardless. He’d spent so many nights having silent, clinical orgasms in his own hands when he lived in athletic dorms and in Lilia’s house that any opportunity to be loud made him pleased with himself. He felt dirty, fucking his choreographer out in the open like this for any poor wait staffer (or husband) to see. He felt right, in a sideways kind of way.

“Ah-ah-ah.” He let himself moan as Viktor pulled back to work just the head of his cock before swallowing him down all the way again.

Viktor’s hands began to tighten on his hips and he was bobbing his head faster and faster, clearly trying to get Yuri off as best he could. Yuri could feel him move his tongue, tighten and loosen his lips, he could hear him humming as if the small vibration in his throat would help.

Yuri could feel pressure building in his stomach as Viktor worked him up and down, steady, constant. Viktor’s hands had warmed up on his hips and were now moving up and down his thighs, tracing his muscles, working around to hold his balls and dig into his skin. Viktor was worshipping him, a little, Yuri realized. He wasn’t trying to get it over with, he was trying to hear more and more of him. Maybe Viktor got off on that, on reducing his partners down to sloppy little messes.

Yuri bit his lip and stayed quiet out of spite and watched Viktor’s face go pink as he deepthroated him. Viktor’s eyes peered up at Yuri, who glanced down. They were watery with the effort and the pressure inside of him built again until Viktor gagged.

Yuri came down Viktor’s throat at the guttural and abortive sound of Viktor gagging, a moan tearing out of his throat at the feeling of his throat constricting. He felt like he was producing fire or, rather, that the fire inside of him was leaving his body. Viktor didn’t spill any, he swallowed it without complaint but when he surfaced for air his voice was finally rough and ground down like Yuri had hoped it would be this whole time.

“Thank you.” He whispered in Yuri’s ear as he began to loosen his tie. “Thank you, Yuratchka.”

“Don’t be weird.” Yuri could hear how shaken he was. His breath was fast and patchy. Viktor was standing up again and like this he was taller. His mouth tasted like come, salty and awkward, but Yuri was finally kissing him back with the passion that he knew Viktor wanted. Yuri grabbed hold of Viktor’s hair, surely to hear about it in the morning if they dared talked about it. He pulled Viktor into him, licking his own taste out of Viktor’s mouth. He kept control this way.

Yuri shoved Viktor’s jacket off of his shoulders, refusing to hear any complaint about how expensive it was. He tore his tie off, too, and added it to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. Soon they were both naked, breathless, and burning hot against one another. Viktor was bigger than Yuri had expected and red and wet, the tip of his head poking Yuri in the hip so filthily Yuri was half hard again already. It was painful to get hard again that fast and yet here he was, ready to go again.

Yuri began to turn around, to offer himself up against the cool metal that edged the bar but Viktor once again directed him elsewhere. He didn’t like it. He wanted to chose again, not to follow.

“Like this.” He commanded, resting his forearms against the wood, hot and damp with his own sweat.

Viktor didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he grabbed Yuri around the middle again and sank down to the floor. Yuri squirmed, trying to get in a more comfortable position but Viktor was so big and heavy on top of him that he was trapped a little. Viktor’s body was hot and rough, hairier than Yuri expected, with little patches on his chest and down his stomach. His nipples were hard and bright pink, ready to be touched but Yuri had the feeling that he wasn’t the one to be doing much of the touching in this situation.

“You got what you wanted already.” Viktor said against his neck, licking and sucking against already painful bruises. His cock dragged against the dip in Yuri’s hip, where his leg became his groin. Viktor kissed him everywhere, trailing saliva down his neck and over his nipples, making him moan and shake his head against the floor. His fingers were cold again where he touched Yuri’s sides and and his hips. His skin was cold but his mouth stayed searing hot wherever he moved it - Yuri’s chest, Yuri’s abs, Yuri’s pubes. 

Viktor pulled Yuri’s legs apart, sliding one hand slowly down his thigh and leaving a trail of burning heat on smooth, shaved skin before gently nudging his knees wider, his hips more open, until he was splayed out fully. Viktor pulled a bottle out of the pile of clothing, likely stashed in his jacket pocket, and brought one hand down in between Yuri’s ass cheeks and the other to his cock. In tandem Viktor pushed in and began to bring Yuri to full hardness again.

The first finger was fine, it always was, but the second was a little too fast. Yuri threw his head back as Viktor began to move his fingers in and out of him. Little whimpers came out of him despite his teeth tugging at his lips. Damn, Viktor was good. He’d reduced him down to nothingness so easily that Yuri couldn’t even fight it anymore. He was at Viktor’s mercy now. Fair is fair, he surmised.

His spine dug into the hardwood floor of the ballroom as he wiggled, legs pulled back and apart. Viktor added a third finger into him and began to twist. Yuri’s ass burned a little, like it usually did, but even in this state he trusted Viktor to take it easy with him. Despite all this, despite the show of it all, he knew Viktor wouldn’t take him too hard.

Or so he thought.

Viktor was inside him so fast that Yuri had barely noticed the transition. Yuri cried out loud at the new sensation, at the sudden pleasure-pain of stretch and stimulation. His body shook at the intrusion and his back left the floor until he was supported by nothing but his shoulders. Before he could adjust Viktor was already moving, fucking him hard and fast. He could barely hear his own moans over the sound of skin on skin and it’s echos in the ballroom but he knew what he must sound like - loud, wet, and in ecstasy. Viktor was so good inside of him, sending electricity through his body at every movement, making him feel liquified and immovable. All he could do was lay there and take what Viktor gave to him.

Yuri moved his arms up above his head, covering his eyes with his forearm. He could see nothing but blackness even as he felt Viktor move on top of him.

Viktor shifted, pulling Yuri more or less into his lap, making his hips leave the floor. His legs fell back, heavy, against him. With the new leverage Viktor had more power and opened him up - his lips parted, his arms akimbo, his legs dangling. Vulnerable. Needy.

Viktor had his wide and heavy hand on Yuri’s chest now, rubbing at his nipples. The pressure of his hand held Yuri down even more but still felt comforting, almost, as Viktor clawed at his skin. He rubbed the muscles of his chest and rolled his nipples, alternating from one to the other.

Viktor was moving so fast now he knew it couldn’t be long before it was over. 

Yuri’s cock was hard again at this point but still felt tender from Viktor’s mouth and beard stubble. Still Viktor rubbed at him, moving his hand from his chest to his cock. He jerked Yuri off at the same tempo that he fucked him.

If Yuri had been on fire before he was like lava now. Above him Viktor was sweaty and pink, his mouth open just a little, just enough that Yuri could hear his breath. His eyebrows were pulled together and there was a crease in between them. His chest was as pink as blush and his still obvious muscles rolled underneath his skin in a way Yuri never thought he would be attracted to. He never thought he would find Viktor attractive at all, even after he agreed to fuck him. He thought Viktor would remain  _ something _ throughout and after all this. Something he never had a word for - idol, teacher, choreographer, brother, friend all seemed lacking. Viktor had been  _ something _ to him. Now he was  _ something else _ .

Viktor pushed his legs together, making his knees knock and his ass feel tighter. The floor was painful against his bent spine and his muscles were trembling all over from the pressure of being fuked so righteously in the gold dancehall and his head was pounding from alcohol and exhaustion and pleasure. His was whining in a way that should have been embarrassing - wet, obvious, and broken. Every breath he sucked in to try and cool the pressure inside of his body just made him louder until he was groaning and wriggling under Viktor’s expert touch.

Everything about this, despite the planning, was unlike what he had expected.

Viktor did like to surprise people, after all.

Viktor came with an almighty grunt. It was a little undignified but Yuri didn’t mind, not when he could feel Viktor pulse and spill inside of him and not when Viktor’s hand hadn’t stopped moving, still pumping him steadily, until Yuri came again into Viktor’s palm. He felt so good in Viktor’s hands, alive, full of air and light and burning lava leftovers.

Viktor stayed put inside of him for a moment while they looked at each other, panting. Blue eyes met green and for a fraction of a second Yuri wanted to laugh at them. The pressure release of orgasm had made the situation funny, a little. Yuri was lighter now. He felt no tension in his body even as he remained half-folded under Viktor.

When Viktor pulled out, though, slowly and carefully, dragging one last shudder of overstimulated pleasure out of Yuri he didn’t move to stand up. Instead he moved downwards and lifted Yuri’s hips higher.

His mouth was hot. His hands were cold. He sucked the come right out of Yuri, making him quake.

“Happy birthday, Vitya.” Yuri managed when Viktor emerged from between his ass cheeks.

“It’s not my birthday anymore.” He smiled and kissed Yuri on his butt, friendly instead of lovingly, and helped him stand on his shaking legs. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi im trash and i love victurio


End file.
